A Lifetime to Prove
by intense-tardis-noise
Summary: Teen!Lock AU John Watson has been home schooled all of his life. The first person he meets is the fascinating Sherlock Holmes. Will Sherlock save John from himself, or will he cause his own destruction. *Rated M for mentions of self-harm and depression.*
1. Prologue

It was John Watson's first day at a public school. He had just moved to London and had been homeschooled all through his life. However, money became very tight and his parents both had to get jobs, which meant that he could no longer do that.

As his first day of school was quickly approaching, John grew more and more nervous. He never really fit in with other kids. He suffered from severe social anxiety. Every time he was out walking on the streets with his neighborhood friends, he was always picked on. He grew depressed with each day, but he hoped that his friends would keep him distracted. Sooner or later, all of his friends left. He was left alone with his thoughts. He began to harm himself sometimes, when the thoughts became too much. On most occasions he would just lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He'd lie awake until 3 in the morning until his thoughts got the best of him and he was able to cry himself to sleep. Nobody could ever understand, not even his parents, how he was so depressed. Therefore, they shoved it off and acted like it was nothing, treated it like a phase. This of course caused John greater stress. The thoughts were able to overpower him more often until he was harming himself a least once a day.

He hoped that a new school would give him a chance to make at least one friend to distract him from his mess of a life. He may have gotten a bit more than he bargained for in the end.


	2. Chapter One

"John, it's time to wake up."

John rolled over and looked at the clock. It read 5:45.

"Whose awful idea was it to make this start before the sun comes up?"

"Stop complaining and get up or you are going to be late."

John slowly stood up and pulled on his pants and socks. He threw his shirt on over his head. It was 6:10 when he was ready to leave.

"You'll have to take the tube to school, we can't drive you."

"I have no idea where I'm going, how am I supposed to get there?"

"There are other kids around here who go to school the same way. You will be fine, John." His mother pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry things are the way they are, but just keep your head up and everything will be fine."

John walked outside and headed for the end of the street; he knew the general vicinity of where he was going, he just really disliked taking the tube. There were too many people, no matter what time of day you went. As he rounded the corner, sure enough there was a group of kids walking down the street. He didn't want to confront them; people were most definitely one of his weaker points. He kept a safe distance, hoping that they would not notice. Unfortunately for him, one of them turned around and saw him. He immediately put his attention on something else.

"Hey, kid. Why don't you walk with us?"

John nodded his head slightly. "I'm fine back here," he replied.

"You can walk closer. We don't bite, I promise."

John reluctantly walked up to join the group. They talked about lots of things, but they mostly talked about people; they talked about how one girl's head was too big, or one guy's hair was too long. He nervously tightened his grip on his map of the school. His game plan was to simply get through the day without any help; just stay invisible. If nobody noticed him then he wouldn't get picked on by anybody.

John simply followed the other group of kids as they got off of the subway and walked. Once he arrived at the school, he was already able to point out at least 3 groups that would probably want to rough up the new kid. However, while he was busy scoping out the school, he didn't notice the rather large student approach him from behind.

"Come on, Jim, it is his first day, just let him be," he heard a voice behind him say. He turned around to face the looming figure behind him.

"Well hey there, new kid." John supposed that this was Jim. "Don't mind my friend Sherl here-"

"Sherlock!" a tall, curly haired boy corrected from behind him.

"Sherlock, whatever. He doesn't know what he's talking about. You aren't a proper newbie until Jim has gotten a hold of ya." Jim picked John up by his shirt collar with ease and threw him to the ground.

The wind was immediately forced from his lungs as he hit the ground. There were mixes of gasps and giggles and hearty chuckles as several students gathered around. John slowly picked himself up, gasping. He looked up at Jim and his friends. They were laughing. Everyone was laughing; at least everyone except the one with the curly brown hair.

As quickly as the kids gathered, some teachers had dispersed them and sent them on their way. Jim and his group walked away triumphantly, but once again the curly-haired did not do as they did. He helped John stand up, and handed him his crumpled up map that had been crushed in his hand.

"I believe this is yours," he said with a slight smile. His voice was very deep and husky. "Don't worry, he shouldn't mess with you too much. He only likes to rough up new students once. What is your first class, I could walk you, if you like?"

"No thanks, I think I can manage," John replied almost too quiet for him to hear. "Thank you for catching this for me by the way."

Sherlock nodded as if to say 'you're welcome.' "The name is Sherlock, by the way. Sherlock Holmes."

"I'm John Watson." John replied.

"Nice to meet you, John Watson. I think you and I will be good friends."

John nodded awkwardly and turned to walk to the entrance of the school. Sherlock smiled after him.

"So, Sherly, making nice with the new kid already?" Sherlock sighed as Jim and his friends walked up to him. Again. A very dull question, from a very dull person, of course. Sherlock did not particularly like Jim. He was rather large; if it weren't for his massive size he wouldn't be able to scare anything. Surely someone with a brain capacity as small as his could not do anything without a little help.

"Nothing wrong with that," Sherlock defended. "And please stop calling me Sherly, even someone as dull as you could deduce that I am not a female."

Sherlock had an interesting group of…people. Well, they called themselves his friends, which was rather stupid of them; he didn't have friends. Jim and his friends simply followed Sherlock around. They admired his incredible deduction skills. I mean, everyone did.

However, there was something about the new student that he just seemed to take a liking to. He didn't really understand why. Was it his messy blonde hair? His blue-grey eyes? His awkward mannerisms? Sherlock honestly had no idea. He had always thought of himself higher than anyone. Therefore, he didn't make friends. What made this John character so different?


	3. Chapter Two

At lunch John grabbed his trey of food and made his way to the far side of the cafeteria where he spotted an empty table. He pulled out the map of the school and looked to find where he would be going afterwards. He placed the paper map side down for a moment to take a bite of his sandwich when he noticed some writing on the back of the paper.

_You intrigue me… text me sometime. _Followed by a phone number.

John stared at the paper in disbelief. He was so focused on it that he did not notice Jim approaching his table.

"Hey!" Jim shouted. John jumped in his seat and looked up at him. He attempted to keep the fear out of his eyes, but he knew he was failing desperately.

"This is our table, what are you doing here?" John picked up his food and the paper and quickly stood up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" John stuttered as he backed away from the seat.

"Well, next time, pay more atten-"

Just then Jim fell forwards and landed in his large trey of food. The cafeteria erupted in laughter. That's when John noticed Sherlock smiling at him from behind where Jim had fallen. John gave a shy smile back at him. Sherlock motioned for him to sit down. John had lost his appetite, though. He threw his trey away and went to sit outside for the remainder of lunch.

At the end of the day when John made it home he took out his phone and put in Sherlock's number. He wanted to text him right then, but he also didn't want to seem desperate.

_Wait, wait, wait… Why do I even want to text him so badly? I barely know him. Why do I even like him? He's just another student, what's so different about him? I mean he is very tall… and his dark curls cradle his face perfectly… and he seems pretty friendly. Oh, what the hell, I'll just text him. What's the worst that could happen?_

**Hey, it's the guy you met today on the ground. **3:13PM

**_Ah yes, hello John. I see you got my little note. _**3:16PM

**Well, it wasn't exactly discreet. Why did you give me your number anyway? We've barely met. **3:17PM

**_Like I said, you intrigue me. _**3:19PM

**I intrigue you? Hah, so far you've seen me shoved to the ground, and you saw me chased away by a group of bullies. Intriguing isn't exactly the word I'd use. **3:20PM

**_It's the one I'd use. _**3:21PM

**If you say so. **3:21PM

**_I do. _**3:22PM

**I'm sorry, I just don't understand. **3:24PM

**_What do you mean? _**3:24PM

**What exactly do you find intriguing about me? **3:25PM

**_Well, you're posture says that you've got yourself held together, but your eyes say that your whole life is falling apart and you really wish it could be fixed. The way you carry yourself gives off a mixed signal to anyone else, but to me it says 'I am trying to be strong, but I don't think it is working.' From what I saw of you today, I can further deduce that your family is in a tough financial situation and your parents have tension between each other. From what I deduce about you, you have a history of depression and self-harm issues, which technically are not history because you still suffer with it. You are not used to people helping you because the only friends you had ever known left you when your life started getting tough, which is when you began to push everyone away. You have a very distant relationship with both of your parents because they feel like there is nothing wrong with you, even though you beg to differ. This is where your depression originates from because all your life you have felt so alone. Well now I'm here to fix that. Nice to meet you, I am Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. _**3:30PM

**Wow… that was incredible. And consulting detective? How are you even a detective, you're still in school. **3:32PM

**_When the police cannot solve a crime, which they usually cannot, they come to me for help. I can read crime scenes like a street sign. Solve three cases and be back home in time for tea. _**3:33PM

**Wow. And you're intrigued by someone like me? **3:34PM

**_We all have our preferences. _**3:34PM

**And you prefer a loner who has been depressed for the majority of his life? **3:36PM

**_If you are referring to yourself, then yes. _**3:37PM

**Okay then. **3:38PM

**_Meet me at Speedy's. _**3:41PM

**When? **3:42PM

**_Now, if it is convenient. Or if it isn't. _**3:42PM

**I don't even know where Speedy's is. **3:45PM

**_Just get a cab and tell them to take you to Speedy's on Baker Street. _**3:46PM

**I don't have the money for a cab. **3:48PM

**_I do. _**3:48PM

**Okay, fine, I'll be there in a moment. **3:49PM

Sherlock smiled at his phone and walked outside of Speedy's so he could meet John.

John walked outside of his flat and hailed a cab.

"Could you take me to the Speedy's on Baker Street please?"

The cab took off and within minutes the cab pulled up in front of Speedy's where Sherlock was waiting. Sherlock paid the cab driver and then they walked into Speedy's together.

As they sat down, John was the one to speak first. "So, why did you call me out here?"

"Because, I told you we were going to be great friends. A good way to start a friendship is to do what they call "hang out" and "get to know each other."

"Have you not made friends before?"

"Not really, no."

"How?"

"I don't know. I am rather fascinating, but most people just tell me to fuck off."

"I don't see why."

"Me either."

They both laughed at Sherlock's comment. John looked down at his hands and Sherlock continued to look at him.

"You intrigue me, John Watson."

John looked up at him. "Yeah, I know. You've told me a few times now," he said with a soft chuckle.

Sherlock stood up. "What do you say we head up to the rooftop of St. Bart's?"

John seemed rather startled. "Why there?"

"Its outdoors, it's private."

"Uh, sure, I guess."

"Why do you look so surprised?"

"No reason, let's just go."

It took them a few minutes to make their way to the hospital. For some reason that John was not really interested in, he knew people there, and they got inside without a problem. Once at the top, they found a place to sit, and they sat facing each other. John looked down at his hand and twiddled his thumbs as Sherlock continued to look at him.

John shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, the staring is really starting to freak me out here, Sherlock," he said.

"Sorry, I'm just, trying to figure you out."

"Haven't you already done that?"

"Barely. Those first parts were easy to read, but what's _really _inside you, John Watson? You are quite the mystery."

"I could say the same about you. You're some kind of freaky detective genius and you're only in high school."

"I don't know how it came to be this way. Believe me, my parents are _extremely _unintelligent."

"Compared to you, I'm sure everyone is extremely unintelligent."

"Good point…what do you want to do John?"

"What do you mean?" John was surprised at the sudden change of subject.

"When you're grown, what do you want to be?"

"I was thinking about joining the army."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment. "You've been more than thinking about it, John Watson. That's your dream isn't it? To be in the army; to save lives."

"Want to just answer all of the questions for me, then?"

Sherlock let out a satisfied chuckle.

"You knew that before I answered the question, didn't you?

"Deduction is an art, John; an art that I have mastered completely."

"It must be very entertaining to you."

"What?"

"To be the biggest smartarse to walk the streets of London."

Sherlock laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm the _second _smartest. Though, I must say, my brother is losing his edge."

"You have a brother?"

"His name is Mycroft. He's barely graduated and he's already wormed his way into the government."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Just… _wow_."

"What about you, John. What is your sister like?"

John didn't even point out that he had never told Sherlock that he had a sister. He just went along with it. "I haven't seen my sister in a long time… she ran off with friends a while back. She started getting into drugs and alcohol. My parents barely hear from her. They always worry about her. Never me, just her."

"I worry about you, John."

"Why, we've just met."

"Yes, but I know enough about you to know that you need to have someone who worries."

"I don't need anyone."

"Yes you do."

"Well everyone else seems to think I'm just fine."

"Then everyone else is an idiot."

John gave Sherlock a slight smile. His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and the screen read 'Mum.'

John flipped the phone open and put it up to his ear.

"Hello? I'm just out with a new friend. Okay, I'll be home in a moment."

John hung up the phone and stood up. Sherlock stood up as well.

"I could see you home, if you like. I'd need to pay for your cab home anyway."

John smiled at him. "Yeah, I don't exactly know how to walk home from here."

When they finally hailed a cab they rode to John's home in silence. When they arrived, John got out of the cab. He turned before he shut the door. "Thank you for the lovely day; it's been a while since I've enjoyed something like this."

Sherlock smiled. "It was certainly my pleasure. I hope to do this again soon, John Watson."

With that John closed the door and turned to enter his flat. He already heard his parents shouting at each other about bills and other things, which usually led to him getting involved in the arguments. Somehow, the idea of Sherlock kept him at peace through all of this.


	4. Chapter Three

The next day John woke up without a problem. He got dressed and left the house without a word to either of his parents. He kept his distance from the other students as he made his way to the tube and on to the school. He managed to make it to his locker without being pushed down again. In fact, John felt his day was going exceptionally well until the very end. He was at his locker putting away one of his textbooks when Jim approached him. John turned around and stayed against the lockers. He saw Sherlock shift among the back of the group, but he did not make direct eye contact with him.

"You made me look like an idiot yesterday, Watson!"

"I didn't do anything to you…" John said shyly. The next thing he knew, John was pinned against the lockers by his shirt collar. He tried desperately to squirm free from Jim's grip, but it was no use. John knew what was coming and he braced himself for it.

One, two, three blows to John's head came. After that, he was thrown to the floor and kicked once in the stomach. John curled up into a ball trying not to show the pain. He opened his eyes slightly to make sure Jim was far enough away that he could stand up without being pushed down again. He opened them just in time to see Jim slip through a puddle on the hall floor. He fell down on his back and it was as if the whole building shook. Once again, an eruption of laughter rang through the halls. Jim's face turned bright red as he stood up.

"It isn't funny! Next person who laughs at me gets a book to their skull!"

The halls were immediately quiet again. The students returned to their conversations among their groups of friends as Jim and his friends stormed out of the school; all except for Sherlock. Sherlock turned and went to help John up off of the ground.

"Why do you hang out with them? They don't exactly seem like your type."

"Oh, I don't hang out with them, as you put it. I'm merely in the background; blending in, as some people like to call it. They do talk to me and act like I am a part of them but in reality they're all too stupid to realize I'm just using them."

"Using them for what exactly?"

"Experiments."

"Experiments?"

"Yes."

"Okay?"

"Why do you sound confused?"

"Well, what kind of experiments would you perform on people?"

"Oh, plenty, plenty; though I have had to rule out quite a few possibilities. Apparently using toxic chemicals on other people is frowned upon."

John just stared at Sherlock dumbfounded.

"Did you get hit that hard, John?"

"No, it's just, never mind, never mind."

"Would you like to go out for some tea? You're a bit shaken up."

"Yeah, I think a nice cuppa would be wonderful."

Sherlock continued to take John out for tea almost every day, even after the bullying stopped. Soon Jim learned that the more he tried to go after John, the more it backfired on himself. And of course he was too idiotic to realize that it was Sherlock who was sabotaging his attempts to bully John.

"It is actually quite humorous," said Sherlock one day, "he doesn't suspect a thing and I literally plot out my plans right in front of him."

John just laughed and listened as Sherlock continued weaving stories about how much of a genius he was. That was basically the routine nowadays.

Sherlock talked and talked.

John listened and listened.

And they both liked it that way. They liked it very much.


	5. Chapter Four

"So Sherlock, how is your boy toy doing this evening?"

As soon as Sherlock had barely made it into his flat, his brother Mycroft was already on his case about his new friend.

"Oh, I do wish you would stop acting so foolish, Mycroft. You're acting like a 15 year old girl. I'm actually surprised more people haven't mistaken you for one."

Mycroft laughed. "Why so bitter, brother mine? Is it not true that you have feelings for this new _friend _of yours?"

"Just shut up, Mycroft!"

"Boys, boys, enough fighting, we have guests," said the Holmes mother as she heard her boys fighting in the living room.

Both of them sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, how I do hate dinner parties," Mycroft said, very appalled.

"Yes. They're all so bland. They never have anything worth talking about."

"And to think, you used to be the dumb one in the family, Sherlock."

"Yes, then I grew up. Something I highly suggest for you to partake in, _brother mine_."

After that Sherlock stormed up to his bedroom and shut himself in his room for the night. His mother called him once as an attempt to get him to join the family for dinner, but she did not call again. She knew that once Sherlock was enveloped in his studies, it was almost impossible to get him out of them until the next morning.

Although, tonight, Sherlock was not studying. He didn't even go near his experiment table. He sat down in his chair and he thought about John. He thought about how John took his breath away when he first saw him. He thought about how angry he felt when Jim kept trying to bully him. He remembered how panicked he was when Jim actually landed a few punches on John. He remembered how much he enjoyed John's company. John was the first person he had ever met who would willingly sit through his long, confusing stories about his experiments and not question him more than once.

He remembered that he was falling for John.


	6. Chapter Five

John walked into his flat and it was quiet. _Maybe this once I'll get one quiet evening_. It was not quiet. As if right on cue, his parents started shouting. It made John sad, how much they argued just because of money. He thought it sad how such a trivial object got in the way of two people's feelings for each other.

One day money wouldn't be an issue. One day his parents would be able to be happy.

His parents didn't even notice him walk in; he made his way up to his room without a word. He flopped down onto his bed and let his mind wander.

He immediately thought about Sherlock. He thought about his dark brown curls and his long trench coat and that blue scarf he always wore. He also thought about how smart he was, and how annoying he could be because he knew he was cleverer than almost anyone he'd ever meet. However, John mostly thought about how Sherlock acted when it was only he and John. Sure he liked to spin his tales of the multiple amounts of experiments he has done or how many times he had outsmarted his brother who was supposedly even smarter than the mighty Sherlock Holmes.

He thought about how when John did say what little he had to say, Sherlock engaged himself in so many ways. He listened with every fiber of his being when John talked, and John appreciated it very much. He had never really had anyone to talk to at all, let alone someone who listened to absolutely everything he had to say. As he thought more and more about his wonderful friend, he began to realize something. Sherlock was not just a friend…he was much _much_ more than that.

John was falling for Sherlock Holmes.


	7. Chapter Six

After school, Sherlock took John straight to where they had first spent time together; on the top of Bart's hospital.

Today was different though. Sherlock let John do all the talking; and John talked about absolutely _everything_.

John told Sherlock all about his youth and how all of his friends had left him. He also told Sherlock about how his parents argued almost every night and how they never really paid attention to him and how the majority of the past 2 or 3 years of his life he has been completely alone. By the time John was done Sherlock actually had faint tears forming in his eyes.

Nobody had ever driven Sherlock to tears and he had heard more sad stories than he had cared to hear for a lifetime.

"So, John, if you were to end your life, which I surely hope you wouldn't, how exactly would you do it?"

"I'd probably take a dive off of here; I know people say suicides don't work from a building this short, but hey, I'm sure I'll think of something creative by the time I go and do something like that."

"John…"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"You need to promise me you'll never do that."

"Never do what?"

"You know what."

John looked down at his lap and moved his hands about slightly.

"John…"

"I just can't promise that Sherlock, because if I promise that it just makes it that much harder to not think about it."

"I'll be here for you John; you wouldn't have to think about it. You could just talk to me."

"Yeah, can't tell you how many times I've heard that one before."

John returned his gaze to Sherlock who was staring at him with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Before he realized what he was doing, John began leaning in, and so did Sherlock. Within seconds their lips were pressed together in a slow, passionate kiss that went on for several seconds. When they finally pulled away they continued to look at each other. After a few moments Sherlock pulled John into an extremely tight hug.

"Well this is the last time you'll have to hear it," Sherlock whispered into his ear. "I'll be the one who means it."

Sherlock pulled out from the hug a bit and cupped John's face very lightly before pulling him in for another kiss.

John quickly melted into the kiss and held onto Sherlock. Sherlock fell deeply into the kiss himself and they both sat there completely enveloped in each other. Sherlock's long arms wrapped around John's back while John's hands moved up to entangle themselves in Sherlock's dark curls. The kiss seemed to last a life time before they finally came up for air.

They looked into each other's eyes. John began to blush and he looked down at his lap. Sherlock laughed.

"Blushing? What for, John?"

John smiled and looked up at Sherlock.

"You just…kissed me?"

"I did," Sherlock replied. "Twice."

John just laughed shyly and looked back down at his lap. Sherlock put his hand on John's cheek and lifted his head so he could see John's face.

"Why so shy, John?"

"I-I didn't think you'd ever be interested in me that way…I mean, I'm nothing special," John said quietly.

"You're special to me. Isn't that all that matters?"

Sherlock pulled John back in for a third kiss.

John hesitated. Sherlock noticed this and pulled away immediately. He looked at John with grave concern.

"What's wrong? I haven't been to forward, have I? If so, I do apologize," Sherlock said. He continued to ramble to himself for a few seconds until John hushed him.

"It isn't you, Sherlock," he said with a shy smile. "It's just that this is all so unexpected. I mean, you're _you_, and I'm, well, _me_. I just never thought that anyone like you would even take a passing glance at someone like me."

"Why not? I think you're fascinating, John."

"I know you say that, but I just don't get it. _Why_?"

Sherlock turned his gaze to the ground. He looked like he was working very hard to find the right words to use. John watched him. After a few moments Sherlock returned his gaze to John and cleared his throat.

"Okay, John. You want to know why, so I am going to tell you. So get comfortable, this is going to take a minute. And please don't interrupt at any point, it will make this go even slower."

John rested his chin on his fist and he kept his eyes on Sherlock as his gaze trailed off into the sky and began to speak.

"The very first time I met you, I was fascinated by you. You were pushed on the ground with your papers scattered about the grass, but when I helped you up, there was a spark in your eye and it just attracted me in so many ways. I couldn't stop thinking about you whenever you were not around. I just thought of that spark I saw, that spark that I _felt_. I was very confused at first because I had never had a feeling like that about anyone. I first thought it was just a very good friendship that I sensed. But I began researching. I did multiple tests on myself to try to explain this feeling that I had. My brother, Mycroft, as useless as he is, could not have walked in at a better moment. When he asked what in bloody hell I was doing, I explained to him. Now he may be smart, but he has let relationships take hold of his brains. Hence he is losing his edge, as I believe I have told you already. He came in and sat me down and explained these feelings that I had been feeling. He explained that you and I, our minds had a special connection. He told me that I was falling in love with you. Now at first, I thought that was absolutely absurd, as I had just met you. But when I saw Jim approaching you at the table with that menacing look in his eye, or when he approached you and pushed you into the lockers, I was ready to kill him. All I could think was _how dare he lay his hands on you_. Now I know that we have not known each other long at all, and this whole speech may probably scare you away for good, but this is why I've fallen for you, John. This is why I like you. This is why I _love _you: you always have a bit of fight in you, even with the world weighing you down as much as it is." Sherlock looked back to John when he finished speaking and saw that John's eyes had started watering. Sherlock was immediately concerned.

"Have I said something wrong?" he asked, a somewhat frightened edge to his voice.

John looked at him and laughed lightly. Though quiet, it was a sincere laugh, the first one John had had in a long time. He pulled Sherlock over to him and hugged him tightly.

"No, no, you haven't said anything wrong at all. That was wonderful, Sherlock, really. I never expected someone like you to be so open about their feelings. I definitely am glad you are, though," he said. John buried his tear-stained face into Sherlock's shoulder and they both tightened the hug. After what felt like years, they finally let each other go. They looked into each other's eyes and slowly began leaning in for a kiss, but they were interrupted by John's cell phone. John stood up and answered it.

"Hello? I am with a friend. Yes. Okay, I'll be home in a bit."

Sherlock slowly stood as John hung up the phone and placed it back in his pocket.

When John looked back up Sherlock pulled him in for a long passionate kiss. It only lasted a few second though before John pulled away.

"As much as I _don't _want tonight to end, I need to get home or my parents will ground me for the rest of my life," John said with a laugh. Sherlock entwined his fingers and joined John in his cab ride to his flat. When John got out Sherlock gently grabbed his hand and motioned for John to turn and face him.

"Same place tomorrow?" Sherlock asked with a cheeky grin.

"Definitely," John replied.

Both of them satisfied with the day's events, they were able to tune out most of the night's chaos that ensued in both of their homes.


	8. Chapter Seven

Deciding that John could use a break from all of the arguments going on in his home, he invited John to spend the weekend with him at his house; it wasn't as if his house was perfect, but his parents strongly enforced the idea of 'hospitality.' John could use some time in a more stress-free environment. John happily agreed and was able to talk his parents into letting him do so; he walked home with Sherlock after school that afternoon.

Most of the walk was silent, but a comfortable silent. As they got closer to Sherlock's house, though, Sherlock began warning John about his family members.

"Okay, well my mum and dad are, well, my mum and dad. If they see you, they will probably ask you a million questions about your life. My wish is to avoid this because quite frankly, I know that you and I both would much rather get to a more private setting." Sherlock put slight emphasis on the word 'private' and playfully bumped his shoulder into John. John blushed and Sherlock smiled.

"Mycroft hopefully shouldn't be home until later, so he shouldn't cause much of a problem."

John looked at Sherlock, puzzled. "Why do you dislike your brother so much?"

Sherlock just shook his head. "He is ten times worse than me when it comes to apathy for people in unfortunate situations, he flaunts his intelligence like there is no tomorrow, and all he does is talk about how much better he is than everyone else. And whenever he gets the chance, he points out as many possible flaws in someone as he can. He is basically an older, worse version of me."

"But Sherlock, I've never seen you act anything like that."

Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's shoulders and turned him into a slow kiss. "And I hope you never see me like that."

Once they got to Sherlock's house, he opened the door and peered inside. He heard his parents in the other room talking about something. He checked the umbrella basket by the door and saw that Mycroft's umbrella was gone. _Thank heavens_ he thought to himself.

He turned and motioned for John to walk inside with him. Once they had both gotten in and closed the door, Sherlock's mum's voice arose from the living room.

"Sherlock, is that you, love?" Sherlock muttered a silent 'damn.'

"Yes, mum. John is here, I think he'd much rather avoid conversation."

"Sherlock," John whispered, hitting his arm.

Sherlock's mum entered the front hall and smiled. "Oh, don't worry John, I understand. I just want you to feel at home here."

John said thank you and smiled before Sherlock yanked him up the stairs.

"For God's sake, Sherlock," he said once they had made it upstairs. "I'd like to keep my arm in the socket!"

"Oh, Sherlock, you should be more careful with your friends."

"Damn…" Sherlock muttered. He turned to see his brother Mycroft leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. He stepped almost protectively in front of John as he reached the top of the stairs. "Leave us alone, Mycroft."

Mycroft smirked and stepped closer. "So this is your 'boy toy.' I thought you could do better Sherlock.

"Stop it, Mycroft."

"Why? That is all he is, isn't he? I mean, you've never used anyone for more than sex. What would make this change of heart?"

"Just stop it, Mycroft!"

Mycroft pushed Sherlock aside and looked John up and down. John shied away from his stare. He looked briefly to see that Mycroft had his eyes trained on his arms. Mycroft grabbed one of his arms and looked at it.

"Are these _scars_?" he sneered. "Oh Sherlock, you can do better than someone like this," he said, pushing John's arm out of his grasp.

Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him towards his room, opening the door. He pushed John inside, and turned to Mycroft.

"You're disgusting."

"As are you, _brother mine_."

Sherlock turned to enter his room

"Oh Sherlock," Mycroft said. "Do be careful. It would be a shame if someone were to tell little John about your…_problem_."

Sherlock grimaced and went into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

John stood, looking at his arm and rubbing it.

"John? Are you okay?"

John shook his head no. Sherlock approached him slowly.

"You know nothing he said is true."

John just shook his head again.

"John-"

"You aren't really like him, are you?"

Sherlock looked confused.

"You don't do that to people… you don't point out all of their flaws and make them feel horrible, do you? Are you really like him? Like that?!"

John stared at Sherlock in disbelief when he didn't answer.

"John, I-"

"So you are like him then?"

"No, I'm not, just listen-"

"How am I supposed to know if I can trust what you say?"

Sherlock pulled John into a kiss. John pushed on Sherlock and tried to get out of his hold, but Sherlock kept a strong grip on John's waist.

"I love you John. When I'm alone, all I can think about is you. And how I hope you are okay, and how I hope that you aren't hurting yourself. Because the thought of you hurting yourself just scares me; I'd be lost without you, John."

John still didn't believe Sherlock. He looked up into Sherlock's eyes, which were full of affection; affection for John. John couldn't break his gaze no matter how hard he tried. Sherlock smiled slightly as he cupped John's face and pulled it up to his own, their lips only a few centimeters apart.

"John?"

John was silent. His face fell down again and his mind was spinning. He had a sensation mixed between knowing exactly what to say, but at the same time not knowing what to say at all. His eyes met Sherlock's again. He remained silent, just staring into his eyes.

They pulled each other into a deep, passionate kiss. Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around John's waist. John's left arm was around Sherlock, and his right arm traveled up to entangle itself in Sherlock's brown, curly hair.

Sherlock broke the kiss and rested his forehead on John's, hugging him tighter and closer to him.

"So, do you trust me?" Sherlock asked.

John looked up to meet Sherlock's eyes. "Yes," he said.

Sherlock smiled and lightly kissed John's forehead. He then quickly pulled John up and kissed his lips. "I bloody love you, John Watson."

John smiled. "And I bloody love you, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock felt his heart flutter and his eyes lit up. John laughed. "Well you're easy to excite, aren't you?"

"That's the first time you've said that you love me too," Sherlock said, smiling.


	9. Chapter Eight

"Just admit it, Sherlock. You are in _love _with John," Mycroft sneered, cornering a helpless Sherlock in the corner of the upstairs hall.

"Shut up, Mycroft!" Was he stupid? Of course Sherlock was in love with John. As if Sherlock would actually say such a thing to his brother. Sherlock never told his brother anything. He was into politics, twisting words was his passion.

"Just say it, Sherlock. You know you're dying to get it out. I can feel it. _Everyone _can feel it. If someone as dull as that boy toy of yours can figure it out, then of course everyone else can."

Sherlock let out something that resembled a growl and pounced on Mycroft, knocking him to the ground. Taken by surprise, Mycroft lost his breath for a moment, allowing Sherlock to easily pin him down.

"He is not dull. You are just an ignorant git. All you have is knowledge and at this rate that is all you will ever have, and even that isn't much."

Mycroft had barely regained his breath, but he flipped Sherlock over onto his back.

"You, brother dear, are pathetic. Here I thought you were different from those petty fools, but no. You've fallen for love just as easily as the next. You're just as useless as every other damned human on this planet. Then again, you never were much better, were you? Have you told John all about _your _addictions?"

Mycroft stood up and smoothed out his wrinkled clothes. Sherlock sat on the floor, silent.

"You haven't? Not even a _mention_?" Mycroft smiled wickedly

"Shut up!"

Mycroft only chuckled as he walked towards the stairs.

"I cannot wait to see him crumble when he finds out that his precious Sherlock is addicted to drugs."

"Don't you _dare_!"

"Well, _someone _has to tell him that he's dating a drug addict. It isn't fair for him to just not know."

Sherlock stayed silent, his head spinning. Mycroft continued up the stairs.

"Poor souls," he said to himself.


	10. Chapter Nine

Sherlock had missed the past few days of school. John was growing increasingly worried about him. He hadn't responded to any of his texts or calls. He didn't want to act like the obsessed partner who called every five minutes, but after the show between Mycroft and Sherlock, he knew that those two weren't afraid to rip each other apart if they had to. As soon as John got home, he pulled out his phone and texted him.

**Haven't seen you at school lately, I hope you're alright. **3:57PM

John waited about 5 minutes. He attempted to work on some homework to pass the time; he knew he would never get a response if he just stared at his phone. He finally got a response about a half hour later.

**_Meet me at the top of Bart's hospital please. It is urgent._** 4:25PM

John made it to Bart's within 15 minutes. When he got there, Sherlock was pacing back and forth.

"Sherlock?"

As soon as Sherlock saw John he ran up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. John, surprised, tightened his arms around him.

"John, I love you." Sherlock said urgently. John smiled and planted a gentle kiss on Sherlock's lips.

"I love you too." He replied. Sherlock searched John's eyes desperately. John was growing concerned rather quickly. "Sherlock, what is wrong?"

Sherlock cupped John's face. "I love you, that is what's wrong."

John backed away slightly. "What?"

Sherlock cursed under his breath. "No, no, I don't mean it like that-"

"Oh for God's sake Sherlock, what in the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Sherlock pulled John into a deep kiss that left them both breathless.

"John I love you, God, I bloody love you…it scares me…"

"Why?"

"Because I've never loved before…I don't want to mess it up John. Knowing myself and knowing Mycroft if I don't mess something up, then surely he will…"

"Sherlock Holmes, there is nothing in this universe that Mycroft could say that would make me think differently of you."

Sherlock kept his gaze locked on the ground. John pulled him into another kiss. "Do you understand?"

Sherlock nodded shyly, but he wasn't ensured. He knew Mycroft was going to tell John about his drug addiction if he didn't. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Sherlock sighed in defeat, and he forced the thought to the back of his mind.


	11. Chapter Ten

Mycroft rarely visited Sherlock's school. Why would he? Too many dull children around. He could barely stand it when he was in high school. However, he had important business to take care of.

He got out of his car and began to search the premises.

Mycroft, against all popular opinions and evidence, did care about his brother. He would never admit it, of course. Making oneself vulnerable in such a way is exactly why so many people were as offset as they were. He knew that this John Watson was bad news for his brother. John appeared to have several, _issues_, which Mycroft was certain that Sherlock was not prepared to deal with. He didn't need John making his brother any more stupid decisions than he already was. Goodness, Mycroft might lose his mind. He needed at least one human being who could function in the same way that he did. It would be a lot easier to help Sherlock with his problem without him droning on about John Watson all of the time.

As Mycroft scoped out the premises he found the group of students he was looking for. He remembered Sherlock talking nonsense about a boy named Jim and his group would constantly follow him around during school. Sherlock had said he was rather large, and rather dumb.

_Well, Sherlock, large and dumb? That narrows it down to about half of the planet._

_Shut up, Mycroft._

_Well, what makes this one different from the other large and dumb children that you come into contact on a daily basis?_

_He knows how to use his largeness to his advantage._

_Pardon?_

_You'd understand if you saw him, brother. At least, I hope you haven't lost that much of your edge._

Mycroft laughed. Oh how Sherlock knew how to argue, he would give him that. And he was right; he knew exactly who Jim was once he'd seen him. While his figure wasn't the best, he carried himself more confidently than anyone he'd ever seen. Anyone other than himself, that is.

"Excuse me," he started. "Are you who they call, Jim?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice loud and obnoxious. Brilliant. "Who wants to know?"

Mycroft handed him a note. "Do you know a John Watson, Mr. Jim?"

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

"The note explains it all."

Jim opened up the note and read it. Mycroft knew everything could be considered taken care of when a smirk spread across Jim's face.

"Ya got it, Mr. Holmes," he said, his grin never subsiding.

Mycroft smiled back as he turned and headed back towards his car.

_I just may be too clever for my own good, _he thought to himself.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Sherlock waited at the front of the school for John. They were going to go out to Speedy's for some tea, then up to their infamous spot on the roof of Bart's. Five minutes passed; then ten; then fifteen. Sherlock knew something was wrong. John was never this late.

Just then, a girl walked past. Sherlock remembered seeing John with her a few times; maybe she would have seen me. What was her name…Marge...Martha...Marylin...Mary...yes, that was it! Mary!

"Mary!" Sherlock called out. The blonde turned around and smiled.

"Oh, hello Sherlock," she said, her voice soft.

"Have you seen John?" Sherlock asked. Mary grew concerned with the urgency in Sherlock's voice.

"The last time I saw him he was with Jim."

"Where were they going?"

"Jim has practice after-"

Before Mary could finish her sentence Sherlock hugged her in thanks and took off for the school. Mary stood and thought for a moment. _He hugs people?_ She shook her head and went about her business.

Sherlock arrived at the school and ran straight for the men's changing rooms. "Damn," he mumbled, jiggling the door knob. "The bloody door is locked."

Sherlock rammed himself into the door several times. He felt it gradually getting looser but it wasn't enough.

"Damnit!" he shouted, kicking the door a final time. Sherlock frantically ran around looking for an alternate entrance into the locker room. After having no luck, he resumed crashing into the main door. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to John. He just hoped that he wasn't going to be too late.


	13. Chapter Twelve

John lay on the floor of the locker room, beaten bloody and barely awake. His whole body ached, his vision too blurry to make out anything in the dark. He knew he was in the locker room; he was dragged here before Jim started pounding on him. The only things he could hear was Jim's voice talking over him and the door being slammed. He was too gone to think 'Sherlock coming to save me.'

"Don't you see, John. Sherlock doesn't care for you. For God's sake, he asked me to do this to you. I told him and told him, 'Sherlock, don't you love him? Why would you ask me to do this?' But the only thing that lad had to say was 'Do it.'

Jim was trying desperately to speak loud enough to cover up the loud pounding on the door, but John was so badly beaten. He knew he wouldn't be able to make much sense of anything going on.

John coughed and tried desperately to get himself up. Instead he just flopped back onto the ground, staring up at Jim.

"Sherlock…would never…"

Jim dropped a crumpled note, letting it flutter down in front of John's face.

"_That John Watson fellow has been rather bothersome lately. Do what you must to ensure that he may never be a bother again. Take drastic measures if necessary. You will surely will be heavily rewarded._

_-The Holmes Lad_"

Jim read the note aloud, trying his best to mimic Sherlock's voice. Of course, it hadn't been Sherlock who'd given him the note. But hey, whatever hurt John the most was fine with him.

John could hear Sherlock's panicked voice from the other side of the door as he continued his worthless attempts to bust the door open. Suddenly, the door was ripped from its hinges, and Sherlock crashed onto his knees next to John and picked him up.

"John? John!?"

John felt himself being moved and heard Sherlock's voice but he couldn't make himself respond.

Sherlock's heart sank as he looked at John's broken figure

'No.' he thought. 'No no no, John, please, stay with me. John!'

He heard a cough from behind him. Sherlock looked behind him to see Jim.

"You!" he shouted. He let John fall from his arms as he stood up and grabbed Jim by his shirt collar. "I am going to make your life a living hell for this," he growled. Jim only smirked.

"Oh Sherlock, you're so dull."

Sherlock turned to see Mycroft approaching him.

"You've exposed your heart, brother. Something you never should have done."

Sherlock was becoming rather hysterical. "What are you doing this for Mycroft?"

Mycroft pulled Sherlock into a hug. Nothing violent about it; just a hug. However, Sherlock immediately pulled away, staring at his brother in disbelief.

"You have never been so vulnerable in your life, Sherlock. I am your older brother. As much as I despise the job, I must protect you."

"From John?!"

"From yourself."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

After about a week John was up and kicking again. His first day back at school was rather intimidating. He spent the whole day looking for Sherlock, while at the same time, avoiding Jim at all costs. The one time he did see Sherlock, Sherlock immediately left the room.

Sherlock continued to ignore John for the rest of the week.

Friday after school, John decided to text him.

**Are you alright? You didn't talk to me at all this week. Did I do something? **3:46PM

**_It would be best if you and Sherlock Holmes no longer communicated, Mr. Watson. Please erase this number from your contacts. –MH _**3:48PM

John almost let the phone drop out of his hands. He looked at the message for a good five minutes before he took it into realization.

"Sherlock…"

John felt his heart physically shatter.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Sherlock's hands shook as his brother sent the message to John using his phone.

"It is for the best, Sherlock. You don't need love getting in the way," Mycroft said, handing Sherlock his phone. "You will thank me some day."

"I am never going to forgive you for any of this…you're doing nothing to help anyone but yourself."

"I am protecting you."

"I don't need to be protected from John!"

"Have you seen the amount of issues John Watson has, Sherlock? That is the last thing you need. You have your own problems to deal with!"

"My problems are none of your concern!"

"Well, they clearly haven't been concerns of yours either, Sherlock!"

"I can fix this drug problem whenever I want!"

"Then do it! Or are your drugs more important than John?"

Sherlock felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

Mycroft tossed Sherlock his phone and left without another word. A tear dropped onto the phone screen as Sherlock stared down at it. It was blank. He whispered 'I'm sorry' as if John would be able to hear him. He knew at this point John would be breaking apart, and it was his fault.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

A week passed. It was early Saturday morning. John's arms stung. He picked up his phone. No new texts. He opened up Sherlock's contact. Of course he didn't delete the number.

**Sherlock… please talk to me.** 2:37AM

…

**I miss meeting up with you at Speedy's. **2:45AM

…

**I'd never even heard of the place until I met you, now I see it all the time. **2:47AM

…

**I wish I could still see you all the time. **2:51AM

…

**_I wish the same, John. _**2:54AM

John's phone buzzed in his hand as he was sending a fifth text. His heart fluttered as he read the words.

**_But we can't. _**2:54AM

John choked back sobs.

**Can you at least tell me why? Please? **2:55AM

…

**Sherlock? Please? Tell me something? Please? **2:58AM

…

**Damnit Sherlock. I thought you were supposed to solve mysteries. Not be one. **3:02AM

…

**I love you. **3:03AM

…

**_You're text cannot be sent at this time. The number you are trying to reach may have blocked you or been disconnected. We are sorry for the inconvenience. _**3:05AM

John let out a small huff. His eyes burned. He put his phone on the bedside table and rolled over. Sleep eventually took over his overwhelming sadness.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Sherlock… please talk to me.** 2:37AM

Sherlock's breath hitched as his phone buzzed. He and Mycroft were playing a late-night game of deductions.

"Sherlock?"

"Clearly the man was overweight, the shoes bottoms are extremely worn out but everywhere else is only worn through a little. These shoes could only have been bought within the past year. The tops are still in fair condition, they are clean, and the threads in the laces haven't been pulled on as severely as they would be on an older pair. This shows that the shoes could not have been worn too often, therefore there would have to be more wear and tear going on while the shoes were being worn. Since the heels of these shoes are in such horrid condition, it only makes sense that they were owned by a man on the heavier side."

Mycroft smiled. It was nice to see his brother try to beat him at deductions. Key word: try.

"Well perhaps he just has a very talented shoe repairman who specializes in everything but the soles of shoes."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. There is no 'perhaps' in deductions, Mycroft."

"Fine, he _does _have a very talented shoe repairman who only specializes in everything but the soles of shoes."

"Does he?"

"If you look along the seam between the sole and the leather you can clearly see that the seam has been repaired, one, two-"

Sherlock ripped the shoe out of Mycroft's hand.

"Not at all," he said. "There are no visible marks where the shoes would most likely need repairs." Sherlock tossed the shoe back at Mycroft. "Even the most talented repairmen could fix a shoe leaving it perfect. This shoe hasn't been repaired once."

"Damn," Mycroft muttered with a small chuckle in his breath. Sherlock's phone buzzed again.

**I miss meeting up with you at Speedy's. **2:45AM

"Who is texting you so much, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock quickly shoved the phone into his pocket.

"No one."

"Is it John?"

"No."

"Sherlock?"

"It isn't!"

"Sherlock?!"

"Mycroft?!"

The phone buzzed again.

"Answer your damn phone, Sherlock."

"No."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"It's John, isn't it?"

Sherlock pulled out the phone. It flashed John's name and message.

**I'd never even heard of the place until I met you, now I see it all the time. **2:47AM

"It is," Mycroft said, sounding unsatisfied.

"Pardon?"

"Your eyes only light up like that when it's him. Though they shouldn't. I told him to erase your number."

"Well, he didn't."

"And it would appear that you did not erase his either."

"Excuse me," Sherlock said, storming out of the room.

**I wish I could still see you all the time. **2:51AM

Sherlock's thumbs danced over the keyboard. He was going to reply to John's texts. He had to. He just had no idea what to say. He knew if they talked in secret, well, it wouldn't be a secret for long. He needed to tell John to leave him alone himself so he would. Sherlock had never felt like a bigger arse in his life, but he needed to… right? Yes, of course. Mycroft might be an unbelievable pain but he _did _know what he was talking about.

**_I wish the same, John. _**2:54AM

"Damn…" he said quietly.

**_But we can't. _**2:54AM

He swore he could feel John's pain as soon as he pressed send.

"John…" he said, as if he could hear him.

**Can you at least tell me why? Please? **2:55AM

Sherlock's thumbs danced again. He didn't know what to say.

**Sherlock? Please? Tell me something? Please? **2:58AM

Tears fell slowly down Sherlock's face as he stared helplessly at the phone, trying to will the words to type themselves in the text box. Nothing happened. Mycroft came into the room.

"Damnit, Sherlock, give me that bloody phone!"

"No, Mycroft, please, let me just explain to him! I don't want to hurt him anymore!"

"Give me the phone, Sherlock!"

"Just one text to explain to him what's going on, please!"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I said so!"

**Damnit Sherlock. I thought you were supposed to solve mysteries. Not be one. **3:02AM

Sherlock and Mycroft wrestled for the phone. It buzzed once more. Sherlock finally ripped it out of Mycroft's hands.

**I love you****_._**3:03AM

Sherlock managed to type "I lov" before Mycroft ripped the phone back from him. He typed furiously and sent the message before throwing the phone back at Sherlock.

**_You're text cannot be sent at this time. The number you are trying to reach may have blocked you or been disconnected. We are sorry for the inconvenience. _**3:05AM

"Don't you ever text him again, do you understand?!"

"Why?!"

"He's turning you into a bloody fool, Sherlock! People like us shouldn't even be forced to breathe the same _air _as people like him."

"Mycroft, you and I are probably the only people like _us _on this fucking planet!"

"Which is why we have always kept to ourselves, and that is how it will stay!"

Sherlock went to retort but he stopped. He wouldn't be winning this argument. Sherlock sighed in defeat, dropped the phone to the ground, and left.

"Sherlock," Mycroft started.

"I've heard enough, Mycroft. Good day."

Mycroft let out a sigh and he fell back against the wall. "You'll thank me one day, brother mine. You will."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

The following week at school John wasn't there.

Or the week after that.

At the end of the second week Sherlock walked up to Mycroft.

"Where the hell has John gone?" he demanded, panicked. He was definitely thinking the worst.

"What makes you think I know?" Mycroft retorted.

"Of course you know, you know everything!"

"Well I don't keep tabs on Mr. Watson, and you shouldn't be worrying yourself over him anyhow."

"Shut the hell up and tell me where he is!"

Mycroft looked Sherlock dead in the eye.

"I. Don't. Know."

"Do… do you think he…?"

"Maybe. Who knows. Who cares?"

"How can you just shove it off like that?!"

"Oh, don't act all high and mighty Sherlock, you used to be exactly the same."

"I'm going to see him…"

"No you are not!"

"Try and stop me!"

Sherlock took off running towards John's house. Mycroft followed him.

_I'll never get there with this git chasing me…and I definitely don't need him knowing where John lives… _

Sherlock took a sharp turn in an attempt to lose Mycroft. Eventually he outran his brother and caught a taxi. Breathless, he gave the driver John's address. He turned his phone off. He didn't need Mycroft trying to track him or anything.

As soon as he paid the cab driver, he hopped out and ran up to John's door. He probably knocked much louder than was necessary, but he didn't care.

"Hello?" asked the woman who answered the door.

"Is John Watson here?" Sherlock asked in an almost demanding tone.

The woman's eyes went empty. Her breath shuddered slightly before she answered.

"Nobody's seen John in two weeks… who are you?"

Sherlock's heart dropped. "Where could he have gone?"

"I don't know… but who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes… his friend."

"Oh, you're that Holmes lad! You're in the newspaper sometimes; for solving crimes and such. Do you think you could find John? He's been missing, I'm so worried about him… he gets very upset sometimes and he'll do crazy things…"

"Don't worry Mrs. Watson. I'll have him home within the hour," Sherlock replied. He was off in a moment, not even waiting for her response. He would definitely find John within the hour. He just hoped he found him alive.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

It didn't take Sherlock very long to figure out that John had been hiding out at his friend Mike's house. Besides Sherlock, Mike was really the only friend that understood John, but he lived a ways across town, so John didn't see him much. How Sherlock came to figure out Mike's address, well, he would never admit. There was a 72% chance that it wasn't legal. Anyway, the important thing was that he was going to find John, and he was going to apologize, and he was going to take John home.

When he got to Mike's house, he rang the doorbell. His heart started pounding in his ears and he could feel his palm becoming rather sweaty.

_What if John hates me... what if he told Mike everything and Mike won't let me see him? What if John refuses to talk to me himself? Oh no, oh no, what do I do, what do I do?_

Sherlock was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice when it was actually John who answered the door.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock was yanked back into reality. "John!"

"What do you want-"

"Please, can you come outside? So we can talk..."

"I don't think we really need to talk about anything-"

"Please, John, please," Sherlock begged. He'd get on his hands and knees if he had to.

"Okay, okay, fine," John said, stepping outside and closing the door. The last thing he needed was this git to make a scene.

"Okay, to start, John. I am so sorry. I am so _so_ sorry, and you have all the rights in the world to never forgive me what I did, but I at least want to tell you what happened."

"What do you mean "tell me what happened?""

"Well... that night, when you texted me saying that you loved me... I was going to say that I loved you too, John."

John let out a stifled laugh. "It's a bit late to be trying to clear this all up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"I know it is, but please. I need to tell you. I need you to know what happened. And I need most of all for you to believe what I am saying."

"Okay, Sherlock."

"Well, that night, when you texted me, Mycroft and I were in the same room. That's why it took so long for me to text back in the first place. Obviously, my brother being the obnoxious git he is, realized it was you who had texted me as soon as I took out my phone. He said I "get this sparkle in my eye when it's you" so I left the room so I could text you back. That was when I had told you that I wished that we could be together, but we couldn't. I felt horrid as soon as I hit send. I was relieved when you texted me saying that you loved me. I decided right there that I was going to tell you that I loved you as well. I wasn't going to let Mycroft control me. But before I could type out the message, Mycroft came into the room and he tried to get the phone out of my hand. He's the one who sent the whole "sorry for the inconvenience" message. After that, I just... I didn't know what to do. I just dropped my phone and left the room. Mycroft kept trying to convince me that it was for my own good, but I just... I just..." Sherlock couldn't find the words to use, so he just fell silent, his head in his hands, his breath shaky and his eyes wet with tears.

"So…you were—"

"I was going to tell you that I loved you as well, John… but Mycroft got a hold of my better judgment and manipulated it."

The two boys sat next to each other, the silence growing very tense. Sherlock let out a shaky sigh and a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, John..."

"It's alright-"

"No, please... don't say it's alright, you and I both know that it isn't so let's not try to fool ourselves... I know I put you through a lot of pain. When Mycroft took my phone and sent the text that the line had been disconnected, I swear I could feel your heart shattering, John. For the first time in my life, I'm putting other's feelings before my own, and that's what scares Mycroft so much. We've always been the reclusive Holmes brothers, the geniuses that know everything and say nothing to anyone because nobody is as intelligent as we are. As much as I hate my brother's method of doing things, I understand why he did the things he did... he was afraid of losing me. While he hates to admit it, I'm the only one on this Earth who is even remotely similar to him. If he loses me, he has no one; and while he won't admit it, I think that's the thing that Mycroft fears most: being totally alone. Just like anyone else on this planet, he shares that same fear. Nobody wants to be alone..."

John listened as Sherlock rambled about his brother.

"But, despite that, nothing that he or I did to you wasn't even remotely okay, John."

Sherlock looked up at John with sad eyes. "And I have never been more sorry in my life for anything. Seeing you break apart is something I never want to witness again. So if you are willing to accept this poor excuse of an apology... I'd like for us to start over, John."

John's hands moved uneasily on his lap.

"I will forgive you, Sherlock. Because I love you. I love you so bloody much it's scary. And also since I love you that much…there's really no need for us to start over."

Sherlock looked at John with disbelief. "What…what do you mean?"

John looked at Sherlock, that familiar spark slowly coming back to his eyes. He smiled at Sherlock. "I say we just pick up where we left off, huh?"

Sherlock smiled, more tears falling out of his eyes.

"Oh, don't cry, you git. You knew I was going to forgive you."

Sherlock pulled John into a hug. "Oh God, John, I love you so much."

"Quite right, too, Sherlock."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

John went inside and thanked Mike for letting him stay.

"Oh, any time John! I know life with your parents can get to be a bit much. I'm always here for you."

Sherlock and John decided to walk back to John's house instead of taking a cab.

"So why did you never spend more time with Mike? He seems nice."

"We weren't really friends. He was just a last resort because there was no way I could've stayed in my house for the past two weeks."

"How do you know him?"

"He's the son of one of the people my dad works with. He's nice, we just aren't that close."

Sherlock nodded as he pulled out his phone and turned it on.

_Hmm. No missed calls or texts. What has that bastard been up to this whole time?_

Sherlock's eyes wandered up to the time. _4:38PM_

"You're mother was very worried about you, John. Perhaps we should have started walking you home sooner. I don't know exactly what time I went to your house, but it was quite a while ago..."

"My mother?"

"You hadn't been at school for two weeks, John. I went to your house to see if you were there. I needed to apologize and make sure you hadn't... you know."

"Oh…" John said weakly. "You actually thought I'd…"

"Well, all I knew was I had caused you a great deal of pain…I obviously kept positive thoughts in mind, but I knew it wasn't impossible for you to have done such a thing. If you had, I don't know what I would've done with myself…"

"Well, let's not talk about it, huh. I'm fine, let's leave it at that."

"Well, if you call arms and legs covered in cuts "fine" then alright, John."

"How did you-?"

"At one point I touched your arm slightly and you flinched; your face scrunched up a bit, too. One could only assume the fabric of your shirt rubbed against the cuts and irritated them, causing a small amount of pain. Simple deduction skills, John."

"Well at least you're still an arse," John said flatly.

"It's all in the name of love."

"Shut up."

Sherlock smiled and looked down at the shorter boy walking next to him. Before they reached John's house, Sherlock stopped. John turned.

"We're almost there, Sherlock, why are you stopping?"

"I have to tell you something really important…"

John gave Sherlock his look to signal that he was ready to listen. Sherlock let out a shaky breath before continuing.

"One of the main reasons my brother stopped me from seeing you was because…it was because I…"

Sherlock was struggling. John rested a comforting hand on Sherlock's arm.

"I have a drug problem."

John looked lost. "What?"

"Over these past few weeks, Mycroft has been distracting me from things to help fix my drug problem…which is another reason he didn't want me talking to you…he wanted me to completely focus on what he was doing…I meant to tell you earlier, but I was just so scared of losing you, John…I was so scared…"

John hugged him. "You git," he said softly.

Sherlock accepted this as John's forgiveness and they made their way to John's front door. Before John could open it, it was swung open, revealing his mother.

"Oh my goodness, John! Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness, thank goodness you're alright! Where have you been! Oh, I've been worried sick, John, why didn't you tell anyone where you were?"

"I'm okay, mum. Is it alright if Sherlock stays over for a while?"

"Oh, absolutely! Thank you so much for finding him Sherlock, whatever can I do to thank you?"

"Oh, no need to thank me, Mrs. Watson. I was as eager to have John found as yourself."

"Well, Mr. Holmes, go ahead and make yourself at home. John, darling, go wash your face up and pull on some clean clothes. I'll make you boys some tea," Mrs. Watson said, walking to the kitchen.

John grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him up the stairs to his room.

"Sorry, Sherlock, could you help me bandage these properly?" John asked awkwardly, motioning towards his arms. "I haven't been able to for two weeks..."

Sherlock helped John to remove his shirt as painlessly as possible. Sherlock stared at the cuts that covered John's arms. "I made you do this, John?"

John stared at the ground, silent. Sherlock held John's arms in his hands, his breathing a bit shallow.

"I'm so sorry, John. Oh my God, I'm so sorry."


	21. Chapter Twenty

Sherlock finally left John's house at about 8. His brother still hadn't made any attempt to contact him.

_It really isn't like Mycroft to give up..._ Sherlock thought. Then Sherlock thought even harder. _It _isn't _like Mycroft to give up... what the hell is he planning?!_

Sherlock immediately dialed his brother's number and called it.

_"Brother dear, you finally decide to give me a call. It's very late, you know. I was getting worried."_

"Don't even start with me Mycroft," Sherlock snapped. "What the hell have you been doing all day?"

_"Well, you ran off, so I've been home all day, waiting for you to check in."_

"Yeah, sure, right after you decided to get some friends together for a cup of tea, right? What the hell have you been up to? I swear to God, if you do anything to John, I will kill you."

_"Relax, Sherlock. You worry too much. Nothing is going to happen to John. You, however... you couldn't be too careful, Sherlock."_

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Sherlock shouted into the phone. There was a laugh before the call was ended.

"Mycroft!"

Silence. Sherlock locked his phone and whipped around. There was nobody there.

"Bloody git... what the hell is he-"

Before Sherlock knew what had happened, he was jumped. He felt a needle slide into his neck before he went unconscious.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

When Sherlock woke up, he was tied to a chair in his kitchen. Mycroft sat across from him.

"If you'd like to worry about John, now would be a good time to start."

"What have you done to him?! Let me go! Mycroft please, don't hurt him! Please, please, don't…"

"Oh, we don't have to. He'll be so broken after what we're about to do, he'll do all the hurting himself."

"Why are you doing this, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, defeated. "Why must you ruin John's life... why must you keep hurting him like this…"

"Because he is ruining you, Sherlock."

"The only one ruining me is you, don't you understand?! Whenever when I am with John I'm happy. Whenever I'm with you, I'm not!"

"You see! That, right there, Sherlock. _Feelings._ John evokes so much emotion within you, it makes me sick."

"Okay, so I am capable of feeling. Is that honestly so bad?"

"Who the _hell_ are you?" Mycroft felt as if he were going to vomit.

"Please…do whatever you want to me…don't cause John anymore pain. Please, he can't take anymore…please."

Mycroft let out a defeated sigh and sat down.

"Why do you care about this boy so much, Sherlock?"

"Are you prepared to listen to what I have to say? Because I can assure you it will be full of feelings, it might make you sick," Sherlock snapped at him.

"Tell me."

Sherlock took a deep breath.

"The first day I saw him, Mycroft. He was pushed around numerous amounts of times, but he... he just kept going. He fought his way through life, he kept everything bottled in and just kept going. He somehow reminded me of myself. At first I thought he was just going to be a very close friend, but then I realized, that wasn't what I was actually thinking at all. I found myself getting lost in his eyes, or sometimes he would catch me staring at him, and I realized that I was quickly falling in love with him. Slowly he began opening up to me, telling me everything about his life. He told me he hurt himself sometimes because it wasn't easy holding everything inside. Sorry, I'm rambling…but there is just something within John. He always puts everyone else before himself… He's kind, he's handsome, and he's one of the only people on this planet who didn't think I was a complete arse after I did a full scale deduction on him. Can you believe it Mycroft, he actually told me that it was amazing. I think that might have been when it started. He told me that I was amazing, and I had never really been told that before. In truth, Mycroft, I think why I like John so much is because I've realized that we're both rather isolated in the world. But when we have each other, the rest of the world doesn't really seem to matter… and when you have someone who makes you feel so complete like that, Mycroft, it isn't a very easy thing to just get up and leave them behind. Especially when you know that they depend on you as much as you depend on them."

Mycroft was silent. Sherlock wasn't looking at him. "For God's sake, Mycroft, I knew it was going to be boring, but falling asleep, real-"

Sherlock turned and saw his brother looking at him, his eyes watering.

"Mycroft, are you _crying?_"

"Shut up, Sherlock."

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Go to him, Sherlock."

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat. "W-what?"

"Go to John. Be with him. Be happy..."

"Okay, now who the hell are _you_?" Sherlock asked Mycroft, his voice shaking. "You never give up that easily."

"God damnit, Sherlock, just go! Stop being so bloody stubborn, God knows why John puts up with you…"

"One problem: I am still tied to this chair."

Mycroft untied him, seemingly reluctantly, and Sherlock stood up, rubbing his wrists, which were sore from the rope being tied so tightly. Next, he punched Mycroft in the face, nearly knocking him over.

"What the _hell _was that for?!" Mycroft yelled, holding his hand on his cheek.

"For one, you had someone mug me and put a _needle in my neck_. Two, you did the same thing to John. Three, you have been a complete arseholes for the past few months, and you deserved it."

Mycroft grumbled, and continued rubbing his cheek.

"Now where is John?"

"He's in the room next door," Before Mycroft could say anything else, Sherlock was gone. Mycroft let out another defeated sigh and slowly made his way to the front door and out of the house. Hopefully he could walk off the sharp pain that he felt in his cheek bone. He had barely begun walking when he ran into a jumpy, shorter boy, who dropped several papers he had been holding when he ran into Mycroft. He looked to be about Mycroft's age, maybe a bit younger. He had very short, dirty blonde hair. The boy looked up at him, his face apologetic.

"Oh, uh, sorry. In a bit of a rush," he said hurriedly, rushing to pick up the papers that were now flying out of his reach. Mycroft reached down and helped him.

_Hmm... this is odd_ Mycroft thought. _I'm not very keen on helping others most of the time... good Lord, Sherlock, what have you done to me..._

Mycroft picked up one of the stray papers and read them. There was a name at the top that seemed familiar.

"Greg Lestrade?"

"That's my name," replied Greg, cheerfully. Mycroft looked down at the paper. He was more than certain that he had heard his name before.

"You're...working for the Scotland yard?" Mycroft asked, trying very hard to keep the disgust out of his voice. It obviously hadn't worked; Greg look quite offended. He snatched the paper out of Mycroft's hands and stuck it in the pile with the others, his face reddening.

"Yeah... so what?"

"Well, you do know that those poor excuses for detectives would get nowhere without the help of my brother and I, right?"

Greg now looked very angry. "Well, maybe those "poor excuses for detectives" would be more willing to admit that if you and your brother weren't complete arseholes!" he shouted. Mycroft wanted to look taken aback; but if anything, he was _impressed_. Mycroft smiled as Greg eyed him angrily.

"Easy does it, there, detective."

"Don't mock me."

"How am I mocking you?"

"You mock everyone; you and your brother do. Everyone at the Yard is aware of just how high and mighty you and your brother find yourselves. Sorry, but unfortunately, everyone can't be as ridiculously annoying as you. Nobody would survive!"

With that, Greg stormed away, leaving Mycroft surprisingly dazzled.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

"John?" Sherlock called out into the dark room as he slowly opened the door. In the dim light filtering in from behind him, he saw John tied up to a chair like he had been, his head hanging limply. John let out a groan; he must be awake.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, rushing over to John and untying him from his chair.

"Shrrrloock?" John asked, his voice slurred. The drugs must have not completely worn off yet. Once Sherlock had gotten John untied, he helped John stand and let him hang on to him.

"Come on, John. Use your legs, come on."

"Can't we just stay here, Sherlock?"

"No, I'm taking you home John. Up you get, come on!"

After a few more failed attempts at getting John to stand up, Sherlock picked him up bridal style and carried him into the sitting room. He laid John down on the couch and sat in the chair across from him. Once John had finally come to, Sherlock told him everything that had happened. Once John had more or less wrapped his brain around the whole situation, the two of them stood up and went to take a taxi back to John's house.

"I'm getting really tired of your brother making people mug me, Sherlock."

"How did they even get to you? You were in your house."

"I guess I heard them getting you and I came back outside because of the commotion. I was being a concerned boyfriend."

Sherlock couldn't help but let out a laugh. "You truly are an idiot, aren't you, John?"

"Well, next to you, anyone is an idiot, aren't they?"

Sherlock laughed again. "Excellent deduction, John."

The two looked into each other's eyes, smiling. It had been one extremely long, bumpy, exhausting ride, but it had gotten them here. It felt like they had just spent a lifetime to prove they loved each other. But in the end, it worked.

And all was well.

**Here is the end! Thank you all who have stuck with this story, and I am so sorry that it took so long to get here. I went through the entire story to make sure everything was in order before I started to mass post everything. Any suggestions or comments are greatly appreciated! And once again thank you, and sorry to put you all through such a long wait. 3**


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